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He didn’t bother to finish as voices from the front of the building called out his name.
“Never mind,” Luca said. “Sounds like they’re here. Let me give them some directions and then we can head out.”
Harper and Conor watched Luca walk toward the front, where three men were hauling in large fans.
“Does he know?” Harper asked, and Conor realized he’d been checking out Luca’s ass—and she’d busted him.
“Know?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t asking what he thought she was.
“Luca,” she said softly. “Does he know you’ve got feelings for him?”
Conor frowned, ready to deny, deny, deny. “What makes you think?—”
“The way you look at him,” Harper said, cutting him off. “The way you walked out of the pub the other night when I suggested the two of you kiss. It’s obvious the two of you have a past. Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“We don’t have a past.”
“Then why did Luca say you picked that fight the night of the fire so you wouldn’t have to work with him?”
Conor had been holding his own counsel for so long, he didn’t know how to talk to someone about anything personal.
“He doesn’t know how I feel about him,” Conor said quietly, not because he was afraid of Luca overhearing but because his throat was closing. “At least…I don’t think he does.”
“Why don’t you tell him?”
He raised one shoulder. “It’s not that easy.”
“Because of a family feud.”
Conor shook his head. “No. That’s ancient history.”
Harper didn’t respond, just looked at him, patiently waiting for him to answer her question. He didn’t know how.
“I don’t think…he’d be…interested. I’m pretty sure he swings toward women.”
Harper glanced to where Luca stood, talking to his crew, then turned back to him. “How can you know that unless you ask?”
Conor had spent so many years clinging to the fear of his father’s anger and his young-boy heartbreak, he hadn’t even considered asking Luca out, now that they were adults.
“That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. We’re going to be working on this project for months.”
“Right,” Harper agreed. “Months. Not forever.”
“Harper—” he started.
“I’m shutting up,” she interjected. “Well, I will after I say one more thing. Life’s short, Conor. Too short. We only get one, so we should at least try to live without reservations, without fear, and do whatever it takes to find happiness.”
It was good advice, but there was something about her tone. “Speaking from experience?”
She nodded. “I spent the last few years living a life that didn’t truly make me happy anymore. I tried to convince myself I was, that I’d just hit a bump in the road because I’d always loved modeling. But when it became less joy, more grueling, I knew I needed to make a change. Problem was, it felt like doing so would hurt the people I cared about.”
“Your manager?”
She nodded. “And to some extent, my mom. Mom’s dream when she was younger was to be a professional ballerina. She never made it, so when my modeling took off, it felt like she was living vicariously through me. Not that she was putting pressure on me. The truth was, she was very proud of me, and during those early days, when I was still underage, Mom traveled everywhere with me and it was an amazing adventure.
“It was sort of the same thing with Bradley. He’d just started his agency when he signed me. My career and his business grew together, side by side. For so many years, our goals were aligned and it was a great partnership. But there’s a limit to how much you can squeeze into twenty-four hours, something I was slow to figure out, and something Bradley still hasn’t figured out. By the end of my career, I was starving myself, working with my trainer four-plus hours a day, and traveling fifty weeks out of the year. One morning, I woke up, looked in the mirror, and didn’t recognize myself.”
Her words struck a vein with Conor because she’d always given the appearance of being confident and comfortable in her own skin. Knowing she struggled too made him feel less alone. He admired how open and genuine she was. “And now? You recognize yourself?”
